Failure of Vision
by philalethia
Summary: A twisted game of corruptions and complications. DxR, Dorothy POV
1. one

Notes: Standard disclaimer applies here. I don't own GW, blah, blah…This is yuri, with tiny bits and pieces of het later on. Beware that this isn't at all a happy, sappy story. While I love reading fluffy yuris, I just can't see a Dorothy/Relena being anything but angsty and deranged. Well, that and I can't write fluff to save my life. Enjoy, and review. ^_^

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* * * * *

I tell my lies 

And I despise 

Every second I'm with you

- "Trash", Korn

* * * * *

There's something intoxicating about her, something I can't quite explain. I knew the moment I saw her that she would be the death of me. I was an addict before I'd even taken my first hit.

And it was odd, really, how attached I felt, because I honestly had no reason to feel so. I was her enemy; I despised her and her ideals; I mocked her. And all the while she merely stood, smiling at me. A perfect smile. A fake smile. A doll's smile.

I wanted to rip it off her pretty little face. I wanted her to know true pain. I wanted to make her cry, beg, bleed. I wanted her to see just how foolish she really was.

And yet, I'd never felt closer to anyone in my life. I genuinely enjoyed listening to her talk of peace and pacifism and her other foolish notions. I loved the way my name rolled out of her mouth, fully of false pleasantness and true exasperation. I felt an overwhelming sense of control when I was in her presence, because it was, after all, me who was in control.

I wonder sometimes if she even knew it.

She was starved for friendship when I came along, and I offered it to her. And I like to think that at least some of the time, I was a good little friend. I listened to her woes and gave her false sympathy and praised her when I saw it fit. Maybe we really became some demented version of friends, maybe we never did. I personally don't think that we did, but it hardly matters.

Either way, she still would have crawled into my bed in the middle of the night like she did. She still would have leaned into me, silently begged for me to be the first to take her. She still would have moaned when I did and arched her back when she came. And she still would have held on to me afterwards and kissed me until I felt lightheaded.

Friendship didn't push her into that bed that night, just as it didn't the next night and then the night after.

She came for the same reason that I let her, because we were supposed to hate each other. And there was something so utterly delicious about fucking your 'enemy'.

* * * * *

She glances up at me and I watch her eyes flicker before she returns them to her papers, a sign that she wants me to go so that she can finish her paperwork. I've never met anyone else who enjoys doing paperwork after sex.

Her deformity simply delights me. I refuse to leave her alone.

"Miss Relena," I murmur, shivering as a rush of power gushes through me, "may I inquire as to what you're working on?" 

She gives me an irritated glance. "I have a meeting tomorrow," she tells me in her perfect princess voice, as if it should explain everything.

"Hm. You work so hard, Miss Relena." I fill my voice with false enthusiasm, and I know that she can hear the underlying disgust. I so despise her work and the amount of time that she spends working.

"Is there something that you want, Dorothy?"

I can't hold back a delighted smirk at her annoyance as our gazes meet; I can feel the heat of it and I wonder idly if she can too. "No, not really," I say, moving slowly closer to her until I'm sitting on the bed with her, nearly lying on her. I expect her to push me away from her, as she's done countless times before. I so love when she does that, because she looks so intense when she does so.

She surprises me this time.

Her lips cover mine hungrily, her tongue slipping inside my mouth. She tastes like cherries, innocence. Her arms grasp a hold of mine, pushing me into her, the paperwork long forgotten by her side. I pull away, feeling dizzy and alive.

"I hate you," she tells me quietly, moving to nibble my neck. Such a tender gesture joined with such hateful words. It's beautiful.

I step off the bed, leaving her gazing up at me, breathing heavily and face flushed. I study her for a moment as I do quite often. She looks her age now, not at all like her normal self, which resembles a thirty-year-old single mother. I pointed it out to her once, how her wonderful pacifist life made her appear so tired, so unhappy. She laughed at me, that bland nasal sound, and told me she was happy enough. We never spoke of it again.

"The war is over, you know," I say, not allowing my gaze to falter. It seems irrelevant and I'm unaware of exactly where the thought came from.

She stares at me evenly. "It's been over for several months."

"I know," I tell her. "But we've never discussed it, and I want to hear your thoughts on it." Then as an afterthought, "Miss Relena."

Whatever unusual mood spread over the room only minutes before was broken, and I could feel with relief her annoyance returning.

"You may go now, Dorothy." Just as though I'm her servant. She returns her attention to her papers, and with a smile I turn to leave.

She still believes that she's in control.

It's tragic, really, how something so beautiful can be so exceedingly naïve.

* * * * *

I remember a conversation I had with Milliardo once, about her. I forget when or where it was, but I remember the rest vividly.

"You love her, don't you?" he had asked me, his eyes glittering, not at all unlike hers.

"What?" I had been caught off guard, and it was a peculiar question.

"Relena," he clarified softly, turning away. "You're in love with her."

I considered lying to him, because it would be so easy. He was her brother; lying seemed to be the only option. But I didn't. Instead I stayed silent and thought the situation through.

Was I in love with her?

Maybe I had been, once upon a time, for a brief period before we began to share a bed. I really didn't remember that far back. But was I then, at that moment? I answered him completely and honestly.

"No," I said. "I want to corrupt her."


	2. two

Heero Yuy.

How I admire him. The Perfect Soldier. Isn't that what he's called? Admittedly, I've always doubted his perfection but I never question the title. His flaws are few and hardly noticeable to the untrained eye. His dedication to his mission is admirable, and his emotionless exterior is a quality every soldier should master.

And he can fuck with Miss Relena's mind in a such a way that I never could, and he does so without even realizing what he's doing.

Oh, there is no word that can accurately describe how much I admire Heero Yuy.

He was made Relena's personal bodyguard last week. The news both delighted and disgusted me. Delighted because I am a sadist, disgusted because it won't be me being truly sadistic.

Honestly I can't fathom why he would take such a job. The wondrous Heero Yuy could do so much more substantial things in life besides being a mere bodyguard to a Peacecraft.

That damn driver of hers seems to think he did it out of love.

I scoffed at him

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Love. Such a meaningless emotion to have, so destructive. They say that it can accomplish anything, fairy tales claim it can move mountains, conquer all. I have never once seen love prevail. I've only seen it weaken and destroy.

If love was his reasoning, he no longer deserves to be called perfect. He deserves to be named a fool. Hm. He and Miss Relena might just be meant for each other.

Heero arrived yesterday, looking angry and tough and bearing an odd resemblance to a GI Joe doll. He carried two bags, a laptop case, and a small backpack that supposedly held all of his possessions. He scowled at the servant who attempted to take his luggage and resumed standing in the entryway, surveying everything in sight with a critical eye until his gaze fell upon me.

"Dorothy," he muttered curtly, glare firmly in place.

I nodded at him and gave my best obviously unpleasant smile. "Heero."

The silence that enveloped the room was tense. I could feel his apprehension; it seemed to move through the air in waves. He still views me as an enemy, and I suppose that I am.

I am everyone's enemy, I think. It's in my character.

I quite enjoy it.

"Heero!"

The next thing I saw was Relena clinging to him, burying her face in his shoulder, and Heero looking vaguely unhappy and pushing her away.

The disappointment on her perfect little face made me smirk. Heero met my eye, and I held his gaze bravely before Relena seemed to remember my presence.

"Dorothy, you may leave now."

So I did, smiling maliciously and unable to keep a small bounce out of my walk.

* * * * * 

Once upon a time I used to listen to her speeches. Not only did I listen diligently, but I made notes in my mind as she was speaking and later I would carefully examine them and compare them with my own thoughts on the matter.

I've learned more about her from her speeches than what she has voluntarily told me in conversation.

But that was a long time ago. I've since stopped analyzing her words and searching for new openings to criticize her foolishness. Her speeches, like her, are long, drawn out, and utterly predictable. I'm certain that she has a paper in her desk somewhere with one that she prepared years ago, and she merely changes a few words to make it seem different than when she gave it last week.

So I don't listen.

Instead I decide to play a little game with the boy standing behind Relena for my amusement.

Seeing Heero Yuy daily has proved to be much different than what I had imagined. I thought he would almost be invisible, slipping in and out of rooms without anyone realizing it. I'd thought he was a true soldier, a perfect soldier.

He has an aura, a certain mood that just seems to radiate from his body. The temperature of a room decreases several degrees when he enters. I often wonder if he exhales ice instead of air when he breathes.

My eyes haven't left him since the second Miss Relena began to speak. I know that he can feel the weight of my stare, and I know that he's attempting to avoid looking at me. His gaze has touched every person in the room. Except me.

I make him uneasy. Heero Yuy is unsettled by me.

Almost as though reading my thoughts and setting out to disprove them, his eyes meet mine. He's lost the first game and aims to win the second. I feel the man sitting next to me shift awkwardly, obviously unnerved by our staring contest. I ignore him and continue to stare unblinking at Heero.

Relena's speech ends, her point finally made, and various listeners murmur their opinion on it to whoever cares to listen.

Sensing that the game is coming to a close I smile sweetly and wink.

He looks away.

For the moment, I've won.

* * * * *

"I've never really understood people like you."

The words are spoken softly, almost inaudibly, and yet with such superiority it is almost sickening to hear. She speaks to me as though I'm lower than her, unworthy of her time, a peasant.

"What do you mean?" My voice is equally quiet and void of any emotion. I've learned a few things from our new arrival, even if all we do is stare at each other.

"Homosexuals," she answers, cocking her head to one side.

I can only blink at her. Homosexuals. People like me. The words echo in my mind, but I can find no real fault with them, except of course for the word _me_. Apparently whatever abnormal relationship we've formed is one-sided, rape, something that she has no part of.

"It's unnatural," she continues and I notice that she is studiously avoiding my eyes. "Men and women just fit together, like a puzzle."

It's an odd moment to be having this conversation, when neither of us is fully clothed and both still flushed. She's trying to convince someone, and I suspect it is herself. But, honestly, it is a little late for denial.

I can't stop myself from asking her the question that forms in my mind. "Then why are you here?"

She pauses and frowns. I've unnerved her, and I feel a shiver run through my spine at the thought.

"I don't know," she says finally. "When I figure it out myself, then I'll let you know."

A peasant, indeed.


	3. three

Duo Maxwell arrived yesterday, looking very much like a lost puppy.

I can't say that I'm entirely surprised at his unannounced visit. He has always been so obsessive over Heero. His feelings are common knowledge; everyone – with the exception of Heero himself – knows about it. I had wondered often how the American would take Heero's new job when it meant moving far away to live with Relena. I thought that perhaps he would feel helpless and possibly heartbroken.

But I did not at all expect to open the door on a Friday afternoon to find wide purple eyes staring at me from underneath unruly bangs.

"Dorothy-chan!"

He moved to hug me as though we were friends being reunited after years apart, as though we hadn't been enemies only a few months ago. I stepped back away from his arms and glared at him, effectively ceasing his movements.

He lowered his arms quickly and cleared his throat. "I mean…hello, Dorothy." His voice was laced with mirth and his eyes glinted playfully.

I frowned and took another half step backwards, looking him over closely. His braid is still obnoxiously long, I noticed immediately. Men with such long hair are rare and stand out far too much to be useful. But I find that I can't imagine Duo without it. He has also given up his priest outfit; I give him points for this. Of course, he's replaced it with leather pants and a horridly tight shirt. He therefore looses said points.

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Americans. I rolled my eyes inwardly.

He stared at me, observing me while I did the same to him. His smirk eventually widened as he spoke in a loud, laughing voice. "You know, Dorothy, I've always wondered…how do you get your eyebrows to do that?"

I blinked at him indignantly and moved to finger one of my eyebrows.

"I mean, do you gel it or something? I think that you'd almost have to, to get it to fork like that."

Duo cocked his head momentarily before continuing relentlessly.

"Unless of course they're natural. In which case, I would just like to ask you if you've ever heard of tweezers. Because that's just disturbing."

I opted not to respond, partly because I consider myself to be above exchanging childish remarks with a boy from L2 and partly because I knew perfectly well that he was about to make a point.

"Not exactly pleasant is it, Dorothy, to have someone degrade your appearance." There was no bitterness in his voice, only cheerfulness.

"I didn't say anything about your appearance."

"You didn't have to; your face says it all."

I was fairly impressed by his observation and quite a bit surprised. I briefly considered complimenting his skill before I stopped myself. I do not compliment Duo Maxwell, no matter what the circumstance may be.

"You know, I think that you've been around Miss High and Mighty for far too long," he said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

I didn't get a chance to reply as both Heero and Relena entered the room. I noticed her hand on his arm and the way her smile seemed strained when she caught a glimpse of our guest, and I smiled.

"Hee-chan!"

Duo launched himself full-force at the other boy, his legs wrapping around Heero's waist. Heero looked none too pleased but nevertheless held his arms around Duo awkwardly.

Relena's smile didn't falter even slightly; I was disappointed. "Good afternoon, Duo. To what do we owe this visit?"

Duo disengaged himself and gave her his brightest grin. I wondered idly if I was the only person present who noticed the mocking tone he suddenly took on. "Well, I was talking to Quatre the other day and he asked how you two were doing and I realized that it had been a very long time since I'd seen either of you. So I thought I'd pay you guys a surprise visit. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. You're welcome here any time." The lack of enthusiasm spoke for itself. "I'll have Dorothy take you up to a room."

I began to respond when I was interrupted.

"I'll take him."

Relena and I could only stare in shock as Heero turned quickly after speaking and walked toward the direction of the stairs, Duo trailing behind him with his bulging suitcase and a self-satisfied smirk written plainly on his lips.

I spoke after a moment, turning my head slightly and clapping my hands together gleefully. "Oh, this is going to be such a lovely weekend, isn't it, Miss Relena?"

She was silent. Her fingers twitched lightly, and I could see her chest rising and falling with each breath. Finally her gaze shifted so that it met mine. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I believe that it is."

Her eyes burned into mine, and I realized that the night would be quite a long and remarkable one.

And it was.

I could taste her jealousy.


	4. four

She is having a nightmare.

I admit that I'm surprised. It's been so long since she's had one, three months at least. She used to have them every night.

I know, because I hear them. Every single one of them.

She's quite loud when she has a nightmare. She thrashes and whimpers. She cries and shakes. She could win an Academy Award for her performances in her sleep.

And unlike any normal person, she won't wake up in the middle of her nightmares. She has to endure the whole thing, beginning to end.

I wonder sometimes what she dreams about, who she dreams about. I wonder if tonight her nightmares feature Heero or Duo. I wonder if she dreams about me, if I'm ever the cause of her nightmares.

My feet move on their own, shuffling to her bed where she lays under the covers, her head whipping sharply from side to side. I sit down beside her body and feel the tremors that she is emitting.

I don't believe that I've ever experienced a nightmare quite like Relena does. I have the occasional bad dream where I wake up panting and afraid, but even those are rare. I have not had one of those since I was a little girl.

I remember those dreams, quite vividly in fact. It was always the same dream: me fighting with the parents that I hardly remember now. The fight was always different but it emanated from the same idea: they were holding me back, trying to control me. I ended up murdering them each time.

Relena is whimpering now, her head movements are violent. She's murmuring something that I can't make out. But it sounds suspiciously similar to "Father".

I'm not surprised. It seems only fitting that she would dream of her 'father', his death. I wonder if she's dreaming that she killed him. I wonder if her nightmares are anything like mine used to be. I wonder if maybe we have more in common that I originally believed.

She begins to thrash wildly, her whimpers turning quickly to cries. One of her flailing arms hits my leg, leaving a harsh sting. Her face contorts; she is in pain, emotional torture or maybe physical.

I rest my hand on her forehead, for reasons that I don't understand. I want to feel her pain, experience it for myself.

Her tossing ceases. Her cries decrease in volume until they are a mere echo in my ears. She begins to look calm and peaceful. The only thing that even suggests that she has just had a nightmare is the sweat on her forehead, which I feel more than I see. She rolls her head and sighs quietly, leaning against my arm.

I jerk my hand away, as though it has been burned. And for a second I'm sure that it has. It is hot, unbelievably so. I stand, not taking my eyes off of her face. She licks her lips in her sleep and nuzzles the pillow, a sign that I know all too well.

She is happy, content.

I am disgusted.

I laid my hand on her and she calmed. I chased away her nightmares. My touch soothed her.

I begin to back away towards the doorway, holding my still burning arm away from my body.


	5. five

Notes: Since chapter 4 was extremely short I thought I'd post 5 with it to compensate for it. Of course, this is a very odd chapter…I apologize ahead of time. Beware of creepy crawlies and a deranged Dorothy. Enjoy.

* * * * *

Relena is terrified of spiders. I know this because I was present when she spotted one in her limo. It was a fairly good sized one, but it was the same color as the seats and I probably would not have noticed it had she not shrieked loudly upon glimpsing it. She made me kill it because she was too frightened to get close enough to do it herself.

"I hate bugs," she told me as she smoothed out her dress. "Especially spiders. Horrible creatures, bulging eyes and so many legs." She shuddered in disgust.

I found myself imagining a black widow crawling on her skin and the way she would convulse as its tiny legs inched up her body. I wondered if she could bring herself to brush it away and kill it then.

She probably couldn't.

Then I found myself wondering if one could truly be considered a pacifist if she was having spiders and other such creatures killed. It is, after all, an act of violence on a species that is innocent. That spider didn't do anything besides crawling into the wrong pink limo. The dispute between the two could have been settled peacefully; we could have disposed of the insect without killing it. Isn't that the basis of pacifism?

So Relena is not only foolish but a hypocrite as well.

It is dinner now. Relena decided earlier that we would eat outside, to prove something to Duo I'm sure but I can't fathom what. So the four of us are sitting in a charming little picnic table set up this afternoon near the back door.

Relena is talking about something, her right hand waving back and forth to emphasize whatever point she is making. Heero is next to her, listening intently and staring blankly at the sky, his book lying abandoned by his plate after Relena told him politely to put it away so they could converse. Duo is sitting beside me, folding his napkin into origami animals and tapping his foot continually on the ground, causing our seat to shake slightly and my patience to stretch.

And I'm watching a spider crawl across the wood table, traveling slowly in the direction of Relena's left hand that remains sitting still.

It is tiny, less that a centimeter in length, and I'm sure that I'm the only one here who is observant enough to spot it amongst the other dots on the table. It's black with a yellow stripe down the center of its body. Although it could be a light orange. I really can't tell from this angle. As I said, it's too small in size for it to be poisonous so I opt not to mention it, only survey it carefully.

I so adore insects. They are truly superior to human beings. Even the most harmless of them has the ability to frighten such large numbers of people with its mere presence.

I once had a praying mantis as a pet when I was younger. An unusual pet, I know, but I loved it. I named it Mars, the god of war. I kept him in an aquarium, like one would keep a pet tarantula. He was larger than a normal mantis, at least 3 inches, and a much more beautiful green. I particularly enjoyed his eyes, so supernatural.

At night when I was alone, I'd open a window and let a fly or two get inside the house. Then I'd let Mars out of the aquarium and watch him catch and eat them, slowly as though savoring every bite. I was fascinated.

He died when I was 12. To honor his death, I flooded an ant colony and destroyed four spider webs and one egg.

The black spider in an inch away from Relena's hand now. It's proceeding at such a low speed. I wish it would hurry up.

Duo has stopped playing with his napkin. He and Heero are currently staring at each other, and I can see that they are having a silent conversation with their eyes. If Relena notices, she doesn't care and keeps talking.

She lifts her left hand suddenly to brush her hair out of her eyes, and I wince and inhale as the spider jumps back somewhat. Luckily she returns the hand to the table a second later, this time a little closer than it was before. I stare at the spider, willing it to continue.

It takes a hesitant step forward, its front two legs rising to rest on Relena's skin.

With a smirk, I raise my eyes to stare at her. She doesn't falter; she obviously doesn't notice.

The spider has now advanced up to her thumb and is moving significantly quicker than before, as though it somehow knows exactly what I want and is willing to help me achieve it. Arachnids are such lovely things, almost as good as a praying mantis. Almost.

A high-pitched shriek fills the air as Relena swats at her hand, sending the spider sailing through the air. It lands on the table in front of Heero. He blinks at it for a second until Relena begins hissing "Kill it!" loudly. In a swift motion he picks up his book and brings it down on the tiny insect. Duo and I both jump.

Heero lifts the book, and I can see the spider on the table, its legs twitching and curling as its life leaves it. I feel odd, guilty, and I look away.

Duo begins coughing suddenly, but I can hear the underlying laughter he is concealing. Apparently so does Heero, as he suddenly glares daggers at the other boy.

Relena is white and I can see her chest heaving. She smoothes out her skirt, and I grin at the familiar gesture and the memory that it conjures.

"Such a dreadful creature, isn't it, Miss Relena?" I say, hearing the amusement in my voice and not bothering to hide it.

She doesn't respond, only continues to stare at the corpse on the table and idly rub the back of her left hand, to relieve herself of the ghost still creeping and crawling on her skin.

If I concentrate hard enough, I find that I can still see it.


	6. six

It is almost like a war. A war between Duo and Relena over Heero. At least, that's how it started. 

Now Relena believes that she lost Heero long ago. She still can't comprehend that she never had him in the first place.

And Duo - being the compassionate person that he is - is rubbing it in her face. He hangs all over Heero, always maintaining physical contact and choosing the ideal moments to engage the Perfect Soldier in a deep, soul searching kiss.

I used to believe that Heero was oblivious to the war raging around him. I realize now that it's quite the opposite. He's igniting it, keeping it sustained. He runs his hand along Duo's thigh. He plays with Duo's braid only when he's sure that she can see it. Yet he allows her to pull him on the little leash she pretends that she has attached to his neck. I don't know his exact reasons. I suspect that he's like me; he infinitely enjoys seeing Relena suffer. But I can't be sure. He's so hard to read sometimes.

I can hear them at night - Duo and Heero, that is. And I know that she can hear them as well. I've never heard more screaming - orgasmic or other - in my life. I sometimes think that Duo has to be faking it, forcing it.

But he's not. I can tell that it's entirely real. They're just not holding anything back. There's a genuine ring when they both scream, "I love you" within seconds of each other.

And I think it's the genuineness of it that breaks Miss Relena's heart. And sends her into my room, to prove to Duo - and maybe even herself - that she really doesn't need Heero.

So she slips into my room after the session down the hall is over and all is relatively quiet. She is crying and shaking, although trying to pretend as though she isn't. She throws her legs around me, entangles her fingers in my hair, kisses me deeply, and tells me that she needs me. I normally tell her that I know and welcome her persistent hands. Then it's quick and fast, just as I like it, and I wish that Duo would never leave. Relena screams extremely loudly, but that's no change from usual.

Except now there is someone else to hear her.

Things are different tonight, however. She's not so impatient. Her hands aren't so hurried. She isn't bawling as she normally is, but her eyes are red and puffy so I know that she has been.

I wish that she would have waited until she was with me. I wonder if maybe that was why she stopped so early tonight, because she realized that her tears thrill me. I wonder if maybe she has finally figured it all out, this game we play.

"You taste like blood," she tells me. "You always taste like blood. Why is that?" She kisses my thigh so tenderly that I want to push her away. She's not supposed to be this gentle. Our nights weren't supposed to change.

"I don't know." I scrape my nails across her arm and relish the red marks I make on her pretty white skin.

"Hm." She kisses me and digs her own nails into my hip.

She's learned to fight back. I admit that I'm impressed. And a little excited.

"We're going to kill each other," I murmur as she begins to move against me. I know that this means she longs for intimacy, when she doesn't want to bother with fingers or tongues. She wants to be as close as possible so that she can delude herself into believing we have something that even remotely resembles a loving relationship.

She builds her life around those delusions sometimes. I adore watching them shatter.

"Perhaps." A strangled moan escapes her throat as she moves faster. "But I don't mind."

Our gazes meet, and I can see that she's close. Her skin is flushed and her eyes are clouded and faraway. Blood drips from our entwined hands from nails sinking into skin, although I don't know which of us is bleeding.

"At least I'll die with you," she continues, throwing her head back. "And not Heero."

Her body begins to shudder, and I follow moments after, holding her close, feeling everything around me crash and burn. Her words echo in my mind. _Not Heero_.

It is almost like a war. Wars are beautiful.

And so utterly complicated.


	7. seven

Notes: There will be ten chapters in all, so three more after this one. And by the way, I tend to enjoy reviews. ^_^ Emails, too, but a review will do.

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* * * * *

His eyes are cobalt. That's what Miss Relena used to say to me constantly. She was in love with Heero's eyes, I'm sure of it. And I listened intently to her discourse on his 'pools of cobalt wonder' and all the other phrases she used - each of them with the word 'cobalt' in them at least once.

Inwardly I was retching with contempt. Eyes aren't meant to be considered 'cobalt'. No one could actually use such a word to describe eye color; they use blue and green and brown. She sounded like a nonsensical romance novel illustrating the main character from his future lover's viewpoint, which I suppose is what she considered herself to be.

I realize now how mistaken I was. His eyes can only be described as 'cobalt'. I wouldn't use another word; I really don't think one exists that could be used in place of it.

His eyes are cobalt - purely and simply cobalt - and staring straight at me.

"You think you're smart, don't you?" Heero asks evenly. I'm not sure how the two of us ended up here, alone on one of the many balconies of Miss Relena's house with Duo and Relena inside, probably mentally at each other's throat. He sought me out, I'm sure, stalked me much like a predator would his prey.

"I don't know what you mean."

His intent stare doesn't falter the slightest bit, his eyes still boring into mine. "I can see right through you, Dorothy."

I clasp my hands behind my back and continue to hold his gaze. "Can you?"

"Yes."

"And what exactly can you see?"

I wait for his reply but it never comes. He blinks at me contemplatively and finally looks away, inducing a tiny sigh of relief from me as at last I am able to shift feet without seeming nervous.

We both stand in silence, turned towards the setting sun, although I don't believe either of us is truly watching the spectacle of nature. We're lost in our own thoughts.

Heero is the first to break the silence. His voice is quiet and displays more emotion that I've ever heard from him before - which is still fairly monotone. "I'll be leaving in a few weeks."

My head snaps up. "What?" He can't mean what I think he means. He can't be quitting.

"I'm leaving," he repeats, still not looking at me. His body is rigid and his expression emotionless. 

It is almost like a movie. One lover is leaving. The other wants to know why. Except we aren't lovers, and my reasoning is much different from a love-struck woman. Much different.

"You're leaving?" My mouth gapes open. "And you're not coming back?" He gives a curt nod. "Why?"

"I feel that I have to," is his reply, not giving an inch. But I can hear the unspoken words.

"Because of Duo." Not a question, a statement.

Heero doesn't answer, only continues to stare impassively ahead. The silence speaks for itself, and I look away, plainly disgusted by his wordless admission. Love, such a trivial emotion.

I am faintly surprised at my distress. What do I care if he leaves? It's hardly my business. Besides, it will crush Relena. She's still hopelessly smitten - despite her protests. She will be torn, broken. She'll cry millions of deliciously salty tears each day that will need to be licked away.

"What about Miss Relena?" I ask, glancing at him briefly before returning to the pinks and purples of the sky.

"She'll be all right. I haven't told her yet, but I'm sure that she'll take it fairly well," he says calmly.

I wonder if he knows what he's saying or if maybe I've misconstrued him once again. Perhaps he still has no idea that he is tormenting her, causing her so much exquisite pain. Maybe he is as oblivious as I first assumed him to be.

"After all," he continues, turning to fully face me again, "she has you."

Then he's gone, leaving me in the rapidly cooling breeze and the suddenly black sunset.


	8. eight

Notes: This just gets weirder and weirder…

* * * * *

This most certainly wasn't what I was expecting, this quiet. I anticipated chaos, a mixture of crying and screaming. I expected to be awoken one morning by the sound of a heart breaking, being smashed into the floorboards but continuing to beat, and each beat bringing forth hundreds of new tears. I expected all of this; I expected to see a woman die of sorrow for the first time in my life.

But this - this silence and professional atmosphere - was not what I had predicted at all.

Heero told Relena he was leaving last week. I stayed awake all night, waiting for the sobs to start. I was disappointed and taken aback when they never did. So I've been waiting ever since.

"Are you all right?" I ask her, trying to sound sympathetic and to keep the exasperation out of my voice. _Why won't you break?_ I want to ask her but I don't. 

Her mouth is pursed into a thin line, so detached and emotionless. I wonder if she knows how unattractive she looks like this or how beautiful she looks when she cries. Sometimes I think that if she would have cried in front of him he would have stayed, because he'd finally see how pretty she can be.

"I'm fine, Dorothy." A pretty little fake smile. Just like a doll. Aren't dolls supposed to break, shatter into millions of pieces?

"You're not acting like yourself, Miss Relena. I'm worried about you. Ever since Heero announced that-"

"I said that I'm fine, Dorothy," she says, continuing to flip through her papers, not even sparing me a glance. "A little sad that Heero has to leave, especially since he's been here for such a short amount of time. But really, you're behaving as though I should be smashing my hands against the walls."

Now that would be truly stunning. Relena curled into a tiny ball, sobbing into her knees, her knuckles chafed and bloody from the abuse.

"I'm worried," I repeat. It sounds like a reasonable thing to say. I've decided that maybe the subject needs to be pushed. Maybe she'll break then.

She sighs and sets the papers down, her eyes raising to stare at me evenly. For a moment, I'm sure that she can see through me. But then she smiles sweetly - an expression I haven't seen grace her face for quite a while. I honestly hoped that I'd never see it again.

"I know you are," she whispers, standing and crossing over to me. "I know you are. But I'm fine. I really am."

She cuddles into my arms and I reluctantly hold her close to me.

"Besides, I have you."

Heero's words come tumbling back to me. _She'll be all right._ And she is. She hasn't broken, and I'm beginning to think that she never will. _After all, she has you._

She has me. So I suppose that means that I have her as well.

__

She has you.

I wonder if maybe Heero can see something that I can't see.


	9. nine

"You're in love with her."

Familiar words, familiar conversation. I wonder if they'll ever stop assuming that sex equals love, when it obviously doesn't.

"No, I want to corrupt her." I give him the same response that I gave Milliardo years before. It's just as true now as it was then. Isn't it?

"You already have."

This startles me and I whip my head around to glare at him in shock. "Excuse me?" I think for a moment that I imagined his words, that he never spoke. But Duo continues to smile at me, almost mockingly, and I realize that he did speak.

"You've already corrupted her. She is as corrupt as she is going to get. You've taken nearly everything that she has to offer and a few things that she doesn't. So you must still be with her for a reason. You must want something else. Her heart, maybe?" He cocks his head, and his eyes twinkle with the reflection of the chandelier. "Although I think you already have that as well."

I decide that I despise his smile even more than I do Relena's. He has a jester's smile, and it doesn't look at all fake. It looks real and truthful, like he truly is just a happy-go-lucky boy with no worries. But I know better than that. I know that he isn't a natural comedian; that fun and jokes don't come easily. It's all a mask. He's hiding things behind that smile. I positively hate not being able to see what it is.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I tell him, trying to look nonchalant. But inside my head is spinning at what he's implying.

"Of course you don't," he says, his voice resembling one of a man speaking to a small child. I feel more than insulted but bite my tongue anyways.

"When are you leaving?" I ask instead, figuring it to be a safe question, although I know the answer already.

"Tomorrow."

"And Heero is going with you?"

"Yes." His voice is soft, distant. I wonder what he's thinking, if he sounds so wistful every time he thinks of Heero. And then I wonder what it feels like to be in love and why two people - two ex-Gundam pilots - allow themselves to fall to such an emotion. "You know, Dorothy, I think that you and I are more alike than you probably realize," he murmurs, letting himself look away from me.

"We are?" I ask, not allowing my disbelief to show. I can't possibly imagine what the two of us could have in common, me and this braided American fool. I repress the urge to scoff at him.

"Yes." He doesn't elaborate, and I'm sure that I don't want him to. I don't want to hear why he thinks we are alike; I don't want to hear what he has to say.

We are silent for the next few minutes, which really seem like hours. I can't remember a time when I was so ill at ease. I consider leaving the room if he has nothing more to articulate. I have much more substantial things to do than sit and stare impatiently at Duo Maxwell.

He speaks again just as I stand, his voice devoid of any emotion. "You're fooling yourself. You know that, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I thought for a while that you knew what you were doing, that you had this big plan in mind, because it seems like something that you'd do. Because sometimes you're like that. But now I see that you've blinded yourself. You can't see what's staring you straight in the face." He's getting agitated, and I'm confused. He's speaking as though this is the most important affair in the world, but to me all it is is a jumble of irrational thoughts.

"I thought it was entertaining at first," he continues, still seething over something that I don't understand. "But now it's just so damn annoying. This…this whole situation is one big failure of vision on your part."

He storms out of the room, and I hear his footsteps echoing through the house. I listen to them until they disappear and I'm left standing alone in one of the many dining rooms, listening to the ticking of an old grandfather clock.

And I begin to wonder if maybe my whole life hasn't been one big failure of vision.


	10. ten

* * * * *

"You know, Dorothy, a lot of things have happened since you and I first met." Clouded eyes stared, unseeing, up at the ceiling.

"So very true, Miss Relena." The same admiring voice that I always use. I'm beginning to think that she can hear the underlying and barely concealed condescension.

She stares at me, her perfectly contoured eyebrows furrowing in thought, before she returns to studying the texture of the ceiling. "Hm," she murmurs, biting her lip. "I've been thinking a lot these past few weeks."

__

You shouldn't. You shouldn't be allowed to think. "You have?"

"Yes, I have."

I wait for her to say more but she offers no forthcoming explanations. "About what?"

She sighs softly and brushes her bangs out of her face. "I don't know. You. Me. Us. Everything, really."

Pink tongue flicks out to run across her lips. I watch - mesmerized by the motion.

"Well do tell," I say. I'm surprised by the genuineness of my voice.

I watch her exhale slowly, closing her eyes briefly before reopening them. "To be honest with you, I'm not really sure that you want to know."

I probably don't. I can probably live without ever knowing what she thinks and be perfectly content. "Tell me," I persist anyway. It seems like the thing to do.

She straightens her back and crosses the room to sit in front of me. Our eyes meet, and I can tell from the shine in them that I'm going to regret this conversation. That I really won't like what she is about to say.

"I…" Her voice fails her, and she clears her throat before restarting. "I…I think that I'm in love with you."

Everything stops. Duo's words echo in my head.

__

You must want something else. Her heart, maybe? Although I think you already have that as well.

So I do. Maybe I've had it all along.

Relena is talking again but I can't listen. I can't focus in on her words. My mind is too busy reeling from her first blow.

__

So you must still be with her for a reason. You must want something else.

Yes. I suppose that I must.

__

Her heart, maybe?

Maybe…Maybe I've wanted that this whole time. Maybe it's all I ever wanted.

Crashing. Burning. Foundation crumbling. A fire rages inside me, starting in my brain and spreading downwards.

She throws her arms around me and buries her face in my shoulder. I sit stiffly in her embrace. "I don't know how it happened," she says, her voice muffled. "I…I used to hate you. But…I don't know what happened. Now you're all I think about. I've fallen in love with you and I don't know how."

She kisses me suddenly, and I let her. She must see this as acceptance because she's smiling when she pulls back. I want to hurt her, wrench her still-beating heart out of her chest, for making me feel so odd and confused.

__

Fool. Fool, fool, fool.

But who? Me or her?

"You know, Dorothy, this used to be a game. You and me. One big game. But it's not anymore. It stopped being a game a long time ago, after the war ended. It's something so much more now," she says softly before snuggling back into my arms. "I love you."

I make a desperate attempt to crush her in my arms but I find that I can't. My arms won't function, only lie limply around her body.

But she's wrong. The game - that beautiful game - didn't stop after the war ended. It continued. If anything it intensified. And I was winning, as I normally do. I always win.

But it's over now, with her nestled in my embrace, thinking that I love her too. It's over. And I lost.

__

…one big failure of vision…

I've lost.

* * * * *

end

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